


till i hit the ground

by wildcard_47



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Multi, OT3, Tumblr Prompt, cheesy tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from an AU meme floating around tumblr: "Help, I'm trapped in an elevator with my sexy coworker and if we don't get out, I might do something we both regret!" Fanfic tropes are the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	till i hit the ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adreadfulidea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreadfulidea/gifts).



“Hold the elevator!”

Stan heard high heels click across the tile at a run, and dutifully pushed the door open button with his index finger. To his right, Ginsberg adjusted his coat with one hand, huffing out an impatient sigh like the delay was torture.

“Jesus. Some of us are trying to—”

On the last word, Ginzo’s voice tapered off into something like a squeak, and in any other situation, Stan would have given the kid shit about that kinda noise for weeks. But instead he was staring at the beautiful woman in front of them.

Peggy.

She was wearing a black dress so short Stan was sure he could see from here to China. As she stepped into the elevator, all he could glimpse was bare skin and soft breasts, wrapped in silk with a pink bow in front, like a goddamn present. It was killing him—and then she turned around. The hem of her dress barely covered her ass, and to top it all off, she was also wearing black seamed stockings.

God, she looked like a fucking supermodel.

The doors closed smoothly, and the three of them were alone in the elevator.

Stan gripped the handrail behind him with one hand just to keep himself steady. He didn’t dare look at Ginsberg. He barely even breathed, trying to concentrate on getting blood flowing away from his cock.

_Public access television. Public access television. That shitty morning show._

“You guys are quiet,” Peggy muttered after a second, bending down slightly to paw through her little purse.

“Tired,” Stan managed to rasp out. God, it was even worse when she moved like that. He just wanted to run a hand up the inside of her thigh and the other under the collar of that dress and pull her against his body and— _nope. Not here, dumbass._

“Got shit to do,” Ginsberg said from the opposite corner, and his voice was a little shaky. Stan had to close his eyes against the neediness of it.

“Really? You have plans?” Peggy asked.

He was trying to exhale through his nose without being obvious about it. _Field and Stream. Field and Stream. Field and—_

There was a noise like the sound of several gears grinding together, and suddenly the elevator shuddered to a stop.

“What the _hell_ ,” Ginsberg yelped.

Stan’s eyes popped open. Looking up, the blinking indicator light was pinging back and forth between the thirty-second and thirty-first floors.

“Oh, this is bullshit,” Peggy growled, stalking over to the control panel and hitting the emergency button with her palm, with way more force than was necessary.

There was a click like an intercom had turned on, but no answer, just a long buzz of static like they’d picked up a bad AM station.

“Uh,” Stan said, clearing his throat. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

Peggy jabbed at it again with two fingers, more softly this time, with an expression on her face that said she was ready to kill him.

He swallowed, and glanced away. That look wasn’t helping.

“Are you _shitting me?_ We cannot be stuck in here. I—there’s not even a—”

Ginsberg started to hyperventilate.

 

_thirty minutes later_

_Click._ Static. _Click._ More static. _Click—_

“Will you cut it out?” Stan sighed, giving Peggy a frustrated look.

She took her hand off the button. “There must be some way for them to tell we’re stuck. Why won’t they answer?”

“I don’t know,” Stan muttered, scratching a hand across his bearded jaw. “Ginzo, any ideas?”

“Nope. But I kinda feel better,” Ginsberg was on the opposite side of the elevator, lying on his back using his coat as a blanket and his backpack as a pillow. As they had been scrambling to calm him down, Peggy had found a piece of sleeping pill in her purse that was either “a quarter or a half” of a regular pill, depending on who you asked.

 _I put them in there last week,_ she’d reassured Ginzo. _Trust me. You’ll be fine._

Stan was pretty sure half of the kid’s panic had disappeared once she’d bent down to talk to him in that dress, but hey, what the hell did he know. Ginzo took the thing without water and now he seemed to be feeling fine. Meanwhile, Stan was trying to forget about the blouse Peggy was passing off as a dress and concentrated instead on her voice. Remember when she screamed at you about Ponds. Remember when she threw those first color proofs at your head last week.

_Why are you using your sexy voice?_

Shit.

"Michael,” Peggy said, breaking the spell for a second. “Did you say you had plans, before?”

“That is what I said,” the kid echoed, letting out a long sigh. “Pop set me up on another date.”

 Stan blinked, surprised to hear this. Ginz had sworn off blind dates forever after that first fiasco. “With who? Beverly?”

“Who's Beverly?” Peggy asked, her eyebrows knitting down in surprise.

“Nobody,” Ginzo said, but the brush-off lacked his usual venom. “Girl from my building.”

“Oh,” she said.

 

_one hour later_

“We really should leave work earlier,” Ginsberg grumbled, running a hand through the back of his hair. He was sitting up, now, propped against one wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.

Stan’s eyes were fixed on the opposite corner of the elevator, where Peggy was sitting back on her heels in a kind of crouch, the hem of her skirt riding higher up her thighs with every breath. It was making him crazy.

“Yeah, we should.”

Peggy glanced at him now, and he saw the mischief in her expression, and the way her fingers began to play across the hem of her dress.

He had to swallow to calm himself down.

“Would you quit it?” Ginsberg said loudly from the corner. Stan was sure this was going to turn into a complaint against the two of them flirting until the kid continued, in an offended voice. “You’re winding him up on purpose!”

“Uh,” Stan managed to sputter, because the only thing worse than getting hard for a girl who didn’t notice you was having someone else point it out.

Peggy looked like she was torn between horror and laughter, her mouth pursed in a pink frown, but she didn’t say anything.

Stan let out a long breath, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Well.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help—” Ginsberg started to say, but then stopped speaking. When Stan looked over he could see a flush of red staining the kid’s cheeks, like he was embarrassed. Why would he be embarrassed? He wasn’t the one who—

_Oh._

There was probably a full ten seconds of silence before anyone spoke.

“So, you trying to look at me or something?”

Stan was careful to keep his voice even. Not angry, not disgusted, just…curious.

Ginzo, meanwhile, had turned tomato-red by now, and was staring at a spot on the scuffed tile floor, his posture returning to its usual rigidness. “I—no—it—”

The kid glanced over at Peggy, like he was begging her for help, and a look passed between the two of them like something close to understanding. Like she already knew what this was about.

“I’m not mad,” Stan said quietly. He started to scoot closer to the younger man, with no real idea of what he was gonna do once he got closer.

Ginsberg’s eyes were wide. His hands clenched at the collar of his spread-out coat. By the time Stan leaned in to kiss him, careful like he hadn’t been with anyone in years, the other man’s breath was coming in little short gasps.

Pretty soon, Stan felt Peggy’s hand on his cock and her breasts pressed against his back, and in front of him Ginzo was keening and trembling like a newborn colt.

“Please,” he kept saying as Stan touched him—and his voice was so needy Stan could feel himself getting harder with every noise. “Oh, jesus—please.”

 

_two hours later_

They were lying in the middle of the floor on top of Ginzo and Stan’s coats. Ginsberg was asleep. Peggy was curled into Ginsberg’s right side, while Stan was stretched out beside her with his legs propped against one corner wall. Everyone was mostly decent again. Honestly, all Stan wanted was to sleep a little longer, if they were just going to be stuck in here.

“Chief, you got any more of those pills?” he asked.

Peggy sat up with a sigh, rifled clumsily through her purse for a minute, and finally handed him one. He rolled it around between his finger and thumb in an experimental way, trying to decide whether to take it.

Thank god he didn’t just swallow the thing in one gulp, because in the fluorescent light, even after it had been knocking around the inside of her purse for a week, one word was lightly etched and still visible across the middle of the pill.

_Tylenol._

“Uh,” he said, struggling not to laugh. “Olson.”

“What,” Peggy said, and he motioned her forward, dropping the tablet into her hand. When she read the brand name, she put a hand over her mouth, her body shaking with silent laughter.

“What’s funny?” Ginzo asked in a drowsy way, but he didn’t even open his eyes. He might have still been half-asleep.

“Least I won’t be sore in an hour,” Stan offered, tossing back the pill and swallowing it dry.

Peggy kept laughing, but before she could say anything, the elevator jerked to life, moving upward for less than a second. The bell dinged, the doors opened, and on the opposite side of them stood Dawn Chambers, accompanied by three or four members of the maintenance crew. They all looked pretty pleased with themselves.

“Oh, good lord,” Dawn pronounced once she saw them, tapping the toe of her patent black pump against the tile and frowning like she’d walked in on them smoking grass. Again.

“We didn’t break it,” Ginsberg blurted first, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair. Peggy was laughing again.

All Stan could do was wave, like a doofus.

“How’s it going, Chambers?”

Dawn let out a sigh like this was the stupidest thing anyone had ever said to her. Although, Stan swore one corner of her mouth twitched up in a smile before she spoke.

“This is sad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Aerosmith's classic "Love in an Elevator," because: hilarious. I'm not even sorry.


End file.
